Lazy, Hermione snuggled into her bed. It was Sunday morning and there was no need to be up and about so early. The world outside her blankets was far too cold anyway, especially as she was not yet ready to face Harry. When she came home from visiting Ron yesterday, she had not seen Harry anywhere, and he actually seemed to have returned to the flat after she was already in bed.

She had decided not to tell him that she took a break in her relationship with Ron. At least not yet. She wanted to make sure first that this near-kiss was just an accident which would never happen again, before she told Harry about her love life. It would be unthinkable if he took her break in the relationship as an invitation to get even closer to her.

Which made her wonder why he behaved the way he did toward her in the first place. He had just split up with Ginny and Ron was his best friend. The last thing on his mind right now was flirting with her.

The smell of coffee interrupted her thoughts. Sniffing, Hermione sat up in bed. Was Harry preparing breakfast for her? She wanted to bury her head under the pillow in frustration, but it was no use. She had to face reality. She had to tell Harry that his behaviour was totally inappropriate, that he had to stop being so sweet to her.

She just quickly put on the next best sweater and stuffed her nightgown into a pair of comfortable pants before opening the door to the living room and gazing with a dark look at the kitchenette.

"Good morning," she was greeted by a clearly too chipper, too cheerful Harry.

Her gaze grew darker still. "And what is this when it's finished?"

Obviously surprised by her hostile attitude, Harry turned to her completely, the full coffee pot in one hand, two cups in the other. "Breakfast, of course. Is that bad?"

Groaning, Hermione ran through her wild hair. "Why are you making me breakfast, Harry?"

Carefully, he set the pot and cups down on the table. "I want to be nice to you. You took me in so spontaneously, it's only natural that I should..."

Undeterred, she interrupted him, "Why are you really making me breakfast?"

The blush spreading to Harry's cheeks immediately told Hermione she'd caught him. So she hadn't just imagined his behaviour after all. With a long sigh, she lowered herself into one of the chairs at the dinner table.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" she followed up when he didn't answer her question.

Slowly he sat down opposite her. His gaze was firmly fixed on the coffee he had just poured into the two cups. "I don't know. I just thought... maybe I wasn't thinking."

She took her coffee cup with a snort. "Yes, that's what it looked like. Harry, you're fresh out of your relationship with Ginny. And I'm... I'm with your best friend. What the hell made you think it might be a good idea to make me dinner and wine? That's not what best friends do for each other..."

"You were the one who snuggled up so seductively on the sofa!" he suddenly spat at her.

Surprised, but satisfied that he finally looked directly at her, Hermione let herself sink back into her chair. "I wanted to comfort you!" she defended herself. "I know how hard it is for you to work through a broken heart. You weren't good at this sort of thing at Hogwarts. I was only trying to help!"

Almost scornfully he replied, "Oh, that's why you put your hand on my thigh? To comfort me? How exactly were you going to do that, that consoling?"

She opened her eyes in horror. He couldn't mean it. What was he trying to imply with his words? She stared angrily into his eyes. "Are you seriously accusing me of cheating on Ron?"

She couldn't believe what Harry was saying. Shaking with anger she rose from the table to put some more distance between her and him, but Harry followed her immediately. Grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't know exactly what you're doing here?" he demanded to know, his face only inches away from hers. "Ron has told me often enough that lately he feels you're not burning for him as you used to. He said it was probably the stress at work that distracts you and prevents you from being able to show your feelings openly. How surprised do you think I was when I arrived here, at your apartment, and you... reacted like that to me, huh? I was just teasing you a little. I wanted to be funny!"

His voice got dangerously low, and although Harry was hardly taller than she was, Hermione felt that he towered above her. With a dark tone of voice he continued, "You blushed every time I showed myself half-naked or flirted a bit jokingly! What did you think how I would react?!"

Her breath quickened. "I'm... you just surprised me with it."

He pulled her even closer until the tips of their noses almost touched. "Do you know how I really felt back then during the Horcrux hunt? When Ron accused us of having a thing with each other ... I felt guilty, Hermione! Because I knew, deep down, that Ron was right. If I could have... if I didn't know exactly how he felt about you... but I didn't think you felt that way! So, I ignored that. I focused on building a life with Ginny."

Stunned, Hermione shook her head. What was he saying? Why was he saying such nonsense?

"I was only teasing you, Hermione," explained Harry, who was beginning to sound really desperate. "Maybe I wanted my ego stroked, I don't know. But after Ginny ended the relationship and I came to stay with you, there it was again, that feeling. And I thought if I joked about it and teased you a bit, then I'd get my clear rejection. I thought you'd put me in my place, laugh at me, something. Instead, you blush, can't look me in the eye, and you just snuggle up to me like this."

As if through a veil, Hermione became aware that Harry was now pressing himself against her with his whole body, that he was successfully holding her between the kitchen counter and himself. Her heartbeat raced along as she desperately tried to look at the situation logically.

"Ron is my best friend," Harry spoke between clenched jaws as if he had to make an effort, not to ... Hermione didn't want to think about what exactly he had to keep away from.

"I would never do anything to hurt Ron," he continued, "but I just can't go on. For two years, I've been ... no, actually a lot longer than that ... I've been holding back because I knew he was in love with you. And I knew you weren't interested in me. So, I said nothing. But now I can't do this anymore."

And before Hermione could process what exactly Harry was telling her, he'd closed the last gap and kissed her.

He kissed her with a passion and a desire that Hermione never felt before. Unable to resist the onslaught of his feelings, she wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss. There was no tenderness in this kiss, no loving exploration, only pent-up aggression and suppressed lust that suddenly pushed forward with all its might. Harry's hands were suddenly everywhere, his teeth nibbling at her lips, digging into the sensitive skin of her shoulders, and again and again he wordlessly asked her to open her lips and let his tongue in.

When his hand finally went under the fabric of her nightdress, Hermione interrupted his hot kisses. "Stop, Harry. This ... this is not possible. Not so fast. We have to talk about this, we can't just..."

"To hell with talking," he shouted at her, but a determined look from her made him actually take a step back.

With her arms crossed in front of her chest, she looked at him. "All this here ... this is not possible. We can't just throw everything overboard. Use your head, Harry."

She saw his jaws locked, his hands clenching in fists and then opening again, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned abruptly, grabbed his coat and took long steps towards the apartment door.

He already half opened it, when he turned to her again. "You're holding yourself back with your own mind, Hermione. I can't stand it any longer. If you want to be so damn stubborn, be my guest. Go to hell with your lack of emotion!"

And with that, he was out the door and gone. Speechless and hurt, Hermione was left alone. What exactly did she do wrong?